Wild life | 23 August 2018

Laikipia

‘This year we’re too broke to take our cattle to the show,’ I told Mark. For six months we had been preparing the show string, training our Borans to stand correctly, to walk well, squandering money on feed, brass nose rings and fancy halter ropes. As the big day loomed I looked at the costs of the lorry to Nairobi and all those expenses in town, and I knew we could not afford it. The bullets are no longer flying in Laikipia but after all the dramas on the farm in recent years we are skint. My tyres are bald, the soles of my boots are falling off. I had such a lovely mob of six heifers ready to go — feminine, structured, big bellied with muscling over the top. It was a tough moment for all the stockmen on the farm when I decided they would be staying at home. My neighbour Mark has long been my mentor on cattle. With his grass green eyes and bulldog head, he does not much look like the sort of cattleman who lets drought or misfortunes spoil his day. In blistering language he expressed his disgust at my behaviour. ‘It’s time to raise your game,’ he said — and then he slung my two young bulls he had helped prepare for the show, the red 1614 and the black 1627, onto his lorries heading to Nairobi’s Jamhuri Park. In return for many favours Mark has rarely asked for anything other than friendship — and loyalty to the things he values such as cattle shows. I felt I had to go along with this. For 15 years I have devoted love and countless hours to my Borans, building up a stud herd from three old cows Claire had given me as a birthday present. Mark calls this all-Kenyan beef breed ‘God’s gift to cattlemen’.